


Always Quick to Follow

by justkisa



Series: The Boys Who Kiss and Bite [3]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-20
Updated: 2016-02-20
Packaged: 2018-05-21 23:39:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6062440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justkisa/pseuds/justkisa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gonzalo and Marek eat dinner, drink, and talk about <strike>their feelings</strike> sex. Gonzalo and Dries cuddle and talk about <strike>sex</strike> their feelings. Then all three of them have sex <strike>and talk about their feelings.</strike></p>
            </blockquote>





	Always Quick to Follow

**Author's Note:**

> 1) Bondage (of a sort) & discussion of bondage.
> 
> 2) D/s themes.
> 
> 3) Still pretending they all speak enough Italian to have fluent conversations.

Gonzalo picks up his fork. Puts it down. Picks it up again then drops it when Marek slams a shot glass down in front of him so hard some of its contents sloshes onto the table. “Drink that,” Marek says.

Gonzalo pokes the glass. It’s cold and wet from the sloshing. “What is it?” He’s learned from experience to beware any drink Marek hands him.

Marek cuffs the back of his head. “Just drink it,” he says and comes around the table to sit down across from Gonzalo. He puts an open bottle down in the middle of the table right in the midst of their dirty dinner dishes. All the writing on the label is in Slovak. Marek holds up a full shot glass. “C’mon, Pipita,” he says then takes the shot. 

“Fine,” Gonzalo says, because he’s never been great at learning certain lessons, and picks up the glass and downs the contents in one gulp. It’s strong, _very_ strong, and he almost splutters and spits it right back out. He doesn’t. His eyes water a little but he swallows. _Thank fuck._ Marek would’ve given him shit until the end of time. He drops the glass onto the table. Marek’s smirking, like he knows just how close Gonzalo’d come to not swallowing. “Well?” Gonzalo says. 

Marek sets his glass on the table. “We don’t,” he says, and he’s not smirking anymore just looks earnestly concerned, which Gonzalo isn’t sure he likes any better, “have to talk about it, you know?” He shrugs. “We can just keep…” He stops but Gonzalo can fill in the rest. They can just keep sharing Dries between them, like— Fuck if Gonzalo even knows. He’s never done anything like this before. But he wants to keep doing it. Wants _more_ even if he’s not exactly sure what more is. 

“We, uh,” he says, “Maybe we should, you know, talk,” and pushes his glass toward Marek, because _fuck it_ , if he’s going to talk about it, he wants to be drunk. 

Marek smiles a little and pours both of them another shot. “Okay,” he says. He raises his glass. “Let’s talk,” he says and drinks. Gonzalo does the same. This time the shot goes down easier.

“So,” Marek says, gesturing at Gonzalo with his empty glass, “Where do you want to start?” 

Gonzalo has no idea. He puts his glass down. Picks it back up. Spins it in his fingers. Puts it back down. He reaches over and grabs the bottle and pours himself another shot. Slams it back. Puts his glass down. “I,” he says, “Fuck, Marek, I don’t know.” 

“Do you like it?” Marek says.

Gonzalo blinks at him. He thought at least that much was obvious. “I, uh, yeah.” 

Marek smiles a little. “Okay. Ever not like any of it?” 

Gonzalo looks down and fiddles with his glass. He shrugs. Because the answer’s not _yes_ but, there’s things he’s done with them, things he’s watched them do together, that he’d never even thought about doing before, things he didn’t even know people did.

“Pipita?” Marek says softly. 

Gonzalo looks back up. “No,” he says, “I, uh, it’s all been—“ He picks up the bottle and pours himself another shot. But he doesn’t take it. Just turns the glass around and around, making wet circles on the tabletop. “It’s been good, Marek, I just…”

“Never done anything like it before?” 

Gonzalo nods. “Yeah,” he says, “Kinda.” 

“Maybe,” Marek says, reaching over to pick up the bottle, “We should start with what you have done.” He pours himself another shot. He smiles a little and picks up his glass. “But drink that first,” he says, gesturing at Gonzalo’s glass. 

That’s fine with Gonzalo. He takes his shot when Marek takes his. His head is starting to swim a little. The shots are catching up with him fast. “So,” Marek says, putting down his glass, “You like to watch. Ever done that before us?” 

Gonzalo licks his lips. Puts down his glass. “Yeah,” he says, “Uh, I, um…” 

“You don’t,” Marek says, ”have to…”

Gonzalo shrugs because, it’s not really a secret even if he’s never just out and out told someone. “Me and Eze, uh, Ezequiel Garay, we used to, you know, uh, share women, and I…” 

“You liked to watch him with them?” Marek says.

Gonzalo nods. He’d never realized he could get off on just that until the first time he’d watched Eze fuck some girl. Eze’d never really understood it. Didn’t get why just sitting and watching was something Gonzalo would waste time doing when the girls they picked up were more than willing to suck him or touch him while Eze fucked them. 

“Was it him,” Marek says, “You were watching, or…”

“Uh,” Gonzalo says. He’s never really thought about it. “Both,” he says, “I guess.”

Marek nods. “Did you and him…”

Gonzalo shakes his head. He would’ve. He’s always been kind of attracted to Eze but Eze’s never done anything to suggest he’s really into that kind of thing. “He doesn’t, I don’t think, you know.” 

“Okay,” Marek says, “But he didn’t mind you watching?” 

Gonzalo shrugs. “He didn’t but, uh, he didn’t really get it, you know?” It’s getting easier to talk. To just spit out things he’d never imagine saying out loud, had barely even let himself think about. All the shots he’s taken are settling into him, loosening his tongue. 

Marek smiles. “He didn’t get off on it the way Dries does?” 

For a second, Gonzalo can’t answer, can’t _speak_ , because all he can think about is the way Dries sometimes looks at him when Marek’s fucking him, like he’s checking to make sure Gonzalo’s still watching him. “Uh,” he says. He blinks. Tries to focus on Marek’s face. Marek’s smirking. “No.” 

“Hmm,” Marek says, “You like that, don’t you? The way he gets off on you watching him? Because it’s him you’re watching, isn’t it? Not me.” 

Gonzalo opens his mouth. Closes it. “Uh…”

Marek laughs. “You’re not going to make me mad, Pipita. You think I give a fuck if you’re watching me or not?” 

Gonzalo smiles a little. “I’m not,” he says. 

“I know,” Marek says. He pauses then says, “So, you like watching Dries, is that all it is?”

Gonzalo shrugs. Because fuck if he knows. He likes watching Dries. Likes fucking Dries. Likes touching Dries, _having_ Dries, any way Dries’ll let him.

Marek smiles. “I like watching him too,” he says, his voice gone low and raspy, “He just— He has no fucking shame, that boy. He ever jerk off for you, Pipita? Ever put on a show like that for you?” 

Gonzalo squirms in his chair. He can almost _see_ it. Dries spread across his bed, his hand around his dick, arching his hips up, fucking up into his fist. He shakes his head. 

“No?” Marek raises his eyebrows. Gonzalo shakes his head again. “You should ask him to, Pipita, you’d like it.” 

Gonzalo swallows. His mouth’s gone dry. He reaches over and pours himself another shot. Swallows it down. “Yeah. Okay,” he says and his voice shakes.

Marek pours himself a shot but doesn’t drink it. “You like watching him with me,” he says. And it doesn’t really sound like a question but Gonzalo nods. Marek smiles a little. “What about with other people?” He pauses. He takes his shot then says, “Do you want that, Pipita? Do you want to watch him with other people?” 

Gonzalo’s never thought about it. Not really. 

With Marek, that first time, he didn’t even hesitate. He’s still not sure why. Maybe because it was _Marek_. He trusts Marek. And Dries had looked at Marek like he was something he desperately wanted. Gonzalo likes it when Dries gets the things he wants. He shrugs. “Dunno,” he says, “Like the way he is with you.” 

“Yeah?” Marek says. 

Gonzalo nods. “Yeah.” 

“So you like,” Marek says, leaning in a little, getting as close to Gonzalo as the table between them will allow, “watching him submit to me? Like watching him do whatever I tell him to do? Like watching him take whatever I give him.” 

Gonzalo doesn’t really hear anything past _submit_. He’s not sure what else he thought it was between them but he’s never thought of it that way. With that word. But it can’t be anything else, the way Dries gives himself over to Marek. The way he moves when Marek says and stills when Marek says and _comes_ when Marek says. And Gonzalo _does_ like it. Because what he sees is the way Marek pleasures Dries, the way he seems to know exactly what Dries needs, and the way he always, _always_ gives it to him. And that’s what Gonzalo likes, what gets him off, Dries’ pleasure. The way he looks. The way he _sounds_. The way he holds nothing back. Gonzalo will never get enough of it. Whether it’s Marek giving it to him or Gonzalo giving it to him. 

Marek’s stopped talking. It takes Gonzalo a moment to notice. It’s quiet. That’s what he notices. So quiet. Marek’s still leaning in towards him, his stomach pressed to the edge of the table. He’s staring at Gonzalo. He thinks he’s supposed to say something. Marek’d asked him a question, hadn’t he? He shakes his head. Tries to clear it. It’s a mistake. It just makes him dizzy. He’s drunker than he thought. He has to breathe carefully for a moment and wait for everything to stop spinning.

“Pipita?” Marek says.

Gonzalo doesn’t answer. Can’t. Not yet. He’s still focusing on his breathing. In and out. _In and out_.

“You know,” Marek says, soft and careful, “That what I do with Dries is what he wants, right? We’ve talked about it. If he doesn’t want to do something he just has to say stop and I will.” 

Gonzalo almost nods. Decides against it. “Yeah,” he says, “Okay,” because he’s never thought otherwise but he’s never actually asked Dries about it. He always feels strange asking Dries about what he does with Marek because he knows he’s only seen, maybe, half of it. Knows there’s stuff that Dries keeps away from him. Stuff Gonzalo isn’t sure he wants to know about. Stuff he worries Dries misses when he’s with Gonzalo. And if that’s true then he doesn’t know if he wants to hear it. So he ignores it. Pushes it aside. And doesn’t ask.

Marek’s quiet for a while. And that’s fine with Gonzalo. Marek’s still staring at Gonzalo in a way that makes Gonzalo want to look away but he holds Marek’s gaze. “You never answered my question,” Marek says finally, leaning back in his chair. 

It takes Gonzalo a second to remember the question. “Oh,” he says, “Uh, yeah, I, um, I do. He, uh, he really likes it and, I, uh…” He meant to stop at _yeah_ but the rest of it just spills out. 

“And you like that?” Marek says, slowly like he’s figuring out what he wants to say while he’s saying it, “When he gets what he wants, that’s…that’s what you like? Seeing how much he’s into what we’re doing?”

Gonzalo nods because he doesn’t want to talk. Doesn’t trust what’ll come out of his mouth. 

“Hmm,” Marek says, slow and considering, “Is that why you always go along with whatever I say? To give him what he wants?” 

_I don’t_ is right there on the tip of Gonzalo’s tongue. He wants to say it. Even kind of wants it to be true. But it isn’t. He’s been thinking about it ever since Dries brought it up. And Dries was _right_. Gonzalo always goes along with Marek. And maybe this is why. Maybe it isn’t. Maybe it’s this and _more_. He’s too clouded by the shots, too tangled up by their conversation, to figure it out.

“I,” he says. He bites lower lip. Tries to find the right words. Can’t. Just says, “Fuck, I don’t know, Marek.”

“That’s all right, Pipita,” Marek says. And he’s using that low, murmuring tone he uses with Dries, the one he uses when he’s trying to soothe him or cajole him. Gonzalo’s not sure that he likes Marek using it on him. Gonzalo looks away. Stares at the windows that line the far wall of Marek’s kitchen. There’s nothing to see out of them. It’s night. There’s nothing but darkness. 

“You,” Marek says, and he’s still using that tone, and Gonzalo wants to tell him to cut it the fuck out, “Can always say no. I won’t mind.” He pauses. “Dries won’t either.” 

“I know,” Gonzalo says but he doesn’t look back at Marek. 

“Or,” Marek says, “I, uh, I could stop. If…” 

Gonzalo jerks his head back towards him. “No,” he says before he thinks about it. Then stops with his mouth open. He wants to take it back. Not because he doesn’t mean it. Because he _does_. He snaps his mouth shut and crosses his arms over his chest. 

Marek’s staring at him again, like he’s searching for something in Gonzalo’s expression. Gonzalo looks down at the table. “Okay,” Marek says, “Okay.” Gonzalo digs his fingers into his arms and doesn’t look at him. He isn’t ready to.

Marek’s quiet for a moment then he sighs and says, “Pipita, I don’t know what you want from me.” 

Gonzalo doesn’t either. He scrubs his hand over his face. “Marek— Marek, _fuck_ , I don’t— I—” 

“You have to give me something here, Pipita,” Marek says, “I can’t, you know…” He trails off. 

Then it’s quiet again. The silence makes Gonzalo itch. He starts talking just to fill it. “It—“ he says, slowly, because he has to pry each word out of the tangled mess in his head, “It’s, I dunno, it’s easier when you, you know.” _Easier_ isn’t really the right word but it’s the closest he can get to what he thinks he means. “I don’t, uh— I can just—“ He stops. He doesn’t know how to fit it into words. 

“What’s easier?” Marek says.

Gonzalo glances at him. “Uh, you know,” He says. Then stops. He doesn’t want to say it. He looks back down at the table. It’s stupid. He’s had sex in front of Marek. _Lots_ of sex. Watched Marek have sex. But he can’t say this. He feels too warm. He knows he must be flushed. “Uh, getting off.” He mumbles it, drags the words together until they’re barely recognizable. He keeps going. His words stuttering out in a disjointed rush. “‘Cause, you know, I don’t really have to, uh, to think. Because, uh, ‘cause you—you’ve got everything, uh, with Dries, with m—“ _With me_ slips right out of his mouth but he stops, bites his tongue, before he can finish. Not ready to hear it out loud. “I dunno. It’s just easier, uh, you know, it’s good. ” 

He pauses. Glances over at Marek again. Marek’s staring at him. But Gonzalo can’t meet his eyes. Not if he wants to say the next thing. He looks back down at the table. “I,” he says, he’s whispering, like a kid sharing secrets, “uh, I like it.” He could have started there, maybe, because this is it, the real truth all his fits and starts of words were dancing around. But he couldn’t. He had to drag himself there. Work up his courage. 

Marek’s quiet. Not for long. But long enough that Gonzalo’s stomach rolls unpleasantly. Nerves spiked with too many shots. “Pipita,” Marek says, soft and low, “Gonzalo. Look at me, please.” Gonzalo lifts his head. Marek smiles a little. “Hey,” he says, “That’s all right. You like it. That’s fine. Really.” 

Gonzalo relaxes a little. “Yeah?” He tries to keep it from being a question but it still comes out as one.

Marek nods. “Yeah.” 

“Okay,” Gonzalo says. And he actually really feels _okay_. Like the telling, actually dragging the words out of his head and spitting them out, was the hard part but Marek knowing doesn’t bother him. It feels good. Right.

“So,” Marek says, “If you want to, if you like it, I’ll keep doing it. Maybe we can try some other stuff you might like?” Gonzalo nods. “Need you to actually say it, Pipita,” Marek says. And there’s a hint of something in his tone, shades of the way he talks to Dries when they’re fucking. 

Gonzalo sits up a little straighter. “Uh, okay,” he says, “That’s— Yeah, okay.” 

Marek smiles. “Okay, Pipita, good.” 

Gonzalo’s going to ask Marek what he means by _other stuff_ but his phone rings, blaring out the song Dries had insisted on picking out for himself. It’s by some Belgian singer and Gonzalo doesn’t understand a single word of it. But he doesn’t really care. It makes Dries happy. He fishes his phone out of his pocket. It takes a minute. All the shots have left him clumsy and slow. Across the table, Marek is laughing at him. Gonzalo ignores him. He finally gets his phone out and answers it. “Hey,” he says, turning a little in his chair so he’s facing away from Marek. 

“Pipa,” Dries says, “Hi.” 

Gonzalo smiles. “Hi. Hello.” 

Dries laughs a little. “So,” he says, “How was dinner?” 

Gonzalo turns a little more in his chair so he’s facing the windows. “Uh, fine. Good. Uh, I’m still here.” 

“Oh?” Dries says, “Say hi to Marek for me then.” 

Gonzalo looks back at Marek. “Dries says hi.” 

Marek smiles and waves. “Hi, Dries,” he says, loud enough Dries should be able to actually hear him. 

Gonzalo turns back towards the windows. “You get that?” he says.

Dries laughs. “Yeah, I got it.” 

“He even waved and shit,” Gonzalo says.

“Oh, yeah?” Dries says, he’s still laughing, “Wave back for me.”

“No fucking way,” Gonzalo says because both of them are being ridiculous and he’s not getting involved in that shit. 

“Aww, c’mon, Pipa,” Dries says. 

“ _No_ ,” Gonazlo says as firmly as he can. 

“ _Pipita_ ,” Dries says, dragging the word out into an exaggerated whine.

“No,” Gonzalo says but he’s laughing as he says it.

“Fine,” Dries says, “Be that way.” And Gonzalo knows just what kind of pout he must have on his face right now.

“I will,” Gonzalo says. 

“So,” Dries says, “What’re you guys doing?”

“Uh,” Gonzalo says, “You know, dinner, um, drinks, stuff.” 

“You’re drinking with Marek, Pipa?” Dries says, “Didn’t you learn your lesson last time?” 

Gonzalo groans. He doesn’t even want to think about last time. Also, he’s pretty sure he made Dries promise never to mention last time ever again. “Dries.”

Dries laughs. “Right, sorry, forget I mentioned it.” He pauses then says, “You drunk, Pipa?”

“Uh,” Gonzalo says, “I dunno, maybe, kinda drunk.” 

Marek snorts. Gonzalo turns to glare at him. Marek mouthes, “Kinda?”

Gonzalo rolls his eyes. “Yeah,” he says, to Dries, “I am.”

“Huh,” Dries says, “You’re gonna stay there, right? For the night.” 

Gonzalo glances over at Marek. “Maybe,” he says, “Or get a cab or something.” 

Marek shakes his head. “Stay here,” he says. 

Gonzalo nods. “Probably stay here, though.” 

“Good,” Dries says. And Gonzalo wishes he were here with them instead of on the other end of the phone. Not for what came earlier but now. So Gonzalo could see him. Touch him. For— He doesn’t know. For, like, reassurance, or some shit. “I’ll, uh, I’ll see you tomorrow, ‘kay, Pipa?” 

Gonzalo almost asks him to come over but it’s not his house and it’s late. So he says, “Yeah, tomorrow.” 

“Okay,” Dries says, “Goodnight, Pipa.”

“‘Night, Dries,” Gonzalo says and waits for Dries to hang up. Then he shoves his phone in his pocket and turns back towards Marek.

Marek smiles a little. “How’s our boy?”

Gonzalo shrugs. “Laughing at me for drinking with you.” 

Marek, because he’s a bastard that way, starts laughing. “‘Cause of last time?” 

Gonzalo buries his face in his hands. “Shut up,” he says, “You promised never to mention it again.” 

“So did Dries,” Marek says, still laughing.

“Fuck you,” Gonzalo says into his palms, “And fuck him too. Last time wasn’t funny.” 

“Uh-huh, Pipita,” Marek says, “If you say so.”

Gonzalo looks up just so he can glare at him. “Whatever.” 

Marek shrugs. “So is he coming over tomorrow? We should make him bring breakfast or something.” 

“Don’t know,” Gonzalo says, “He just said he’d see me tomorrow.” He looks over at the windows. “Kind of want—“ He says then stops. It’s stupid. Wanting to see Dries _right_ now. Like he can’t even go an evening without seeing him. Because he has. He does _all the time_. But, right now, still a little broken open and shaky from talking to Marek, he _wants_ Dries. 

“Kind of want what, Pipita?” Marek says. 

“To see him, you know, now.” Gonzalo says, without looking away from the windows. 

“Should’ve asked him to come over.” Marek says. 

Gonzalo looks back at him. “It’s your house, I can’t just…” 

Marek rolls his eyes. “You can if it’s Dries.” He pulls his phone out of his pocket. 

“Marek,“ Gonzalo says, “You don’t—“ but Marek’s already saying, “Hey, Dries, come over, huh? Tuck Pipita into bed. He misses you.” Marek puts his phone down on the table. “He’s coming over.” 

“You didn’t have to make him.”

Marek raises his eyebrows. “You ever see anyone make Dries do anything he doesn’t want to?”

“No,” Gonzalo says, because Dries can be almost perversely stubborn, “But…” 

Marek shakes his head. “C’mon, Pipita, you wanted him here, he’s coming here.” He gets up and picks up some of the dirty dishes. He comes around the table and, on his way past, he smacks Gonzalo’s shoulder with his free hand. “So be happy, Pipita. Smile or some shit.” 

Gonzalo rubs his shoulder. Marek hits _hard_. He grins as wide as he can. Shows all his teeth. Marek laughs. “There you go, Pipita, that’s better.” Gonzalo flips him off and slumps back in his chair. Marek just laughs harder. 

Marek drops the dishes in the sink and they land with a clatter. He comes back to the table with a bottle of water. He puts it in front of Gonzalo. He ruffles Gonzalo’s hair. Gonzalo smacks at his hand. He fucking hates it when Marek does that. Marek dodges his hand and says, “Drink that.” Then he grabs more of the rest of the dishes and heads back toward the sink. 

Gonzalo opens the water and drinks it in long, slow sips while Marek washes the dishes. 

Gonzalo’s taking his last sip of water when the doorbell rings. He swallows and starts to push up out of his chair. Marek shuts off the water, dries his hands, and motions Gonzalo to sit down. “Stay here. I’ll go get him.” 

“Okay,” Gonzalo says and flops back into his chair. He fiddles with the bottle cap while he waits.

He doesn’t have to wait long. Less than a minute later, Dries is shuffling into the kitchen, saying, “Pipa, hey, heard you missed me.” 

Gonzalo smiles a little. “Maybe.” 

Dries grins. “Don’t give me that shit. You totally did.”

Gonzalo rolls his eyes. He looks Dries over. He’s wearing ratty, plaid pajama bottoms, a worn-thin, white t-shirt, and an unzipped, gray hoodie that’s too big to be his. His hair is a mess. He must’ve been in bed. “You didn’t have to get out of bed to come.” 

Dries shrugs. He comes across the kitchen and drapes himself over Gonzalo’s shoulders. “Rather be in bed with you.” 

“Yeah?” Gonzalo says.

“Yeah,” Dries says and nuzzles Gonzalo’s neck. His beard tickles a little. Dries presses a kiss to Gonzalo’s jaw. “Come to bed with me.”

“Okay,” Gonzalo says, “Yeah.”

Dries kisses his cheek then straightens up and offers Gonzalo his hand. “C’mon.”

Gonzalo takes his hand and stands up. He, maybe, sways a little. Dries raises his eyebrows. “Tell me I don’t have to, like, carry you upstairs or some shit.” 

“No. _Christ_. I’m not that drunk.” 

“Good,” Dries says, interlacing his fingers with Gonzalo’s, “Because I am so not interested in hauling your drunk ass upstairs.” 

“You would, though,” Gonzalo says. 

Dries laughs. “Hell fucking no. I’d get Marek to do it.” 

“I’d make him sleep on the couch,” Marek says.

Gonzalo turns towards him. He hadn’t noticed him come back into the kitchen. “Some friends you guys are,” he says. 

Marek grins. “Don’t front, Pipita, you love us.” 

“Not right now,” Gonzalo grumbles. 

Marek laughs a little. “Go to bed, Pipita. You’ll love us again in the morning.” 

Dries squeezes Gonzalo’s hand. “I’m taking him.” He holds out his free hand towards Marek. “You want to come?” 

Marek smiles and shakes his head. “Not tonight. I’ll see you both in the morning.” 

Dries starts tugging Gonzalo towards the doorway. “Coffee, Marek, I expect coffee.” 

“Uh-huh,” Marek says, “We’ll see. Good night, guys.” 

“‘Night,” Gonzalo says. Dries just waves at Marek and keeps tugging Gonzalo along. 

They make it up the stairs okay. Mostly. Maybe Gonzalo stumbles a few times but Dries steadies him each time. Dries takes him to the only room Gonzalo’s ever been in upstairs. It’s not Marek’s room. Gonzalo’s not sure why Marek never takes them to his room. And he’s not about to ask. 

Dries switches on the light then drags him over to the bed and manhandles him into a sitting position on the edge. He gets on his knees and starts untying Gonzalo’s right shoe. 

“You don’t—“ Gonzalo says, “I can—“

Dries looks up at him and smiles. “Just let me, eh, Pipa? Let me take care of you for once, _hmm_ , the way you’re always taking care of me.” 

Gonzalo swallows. He can rarely deny Dries anything and there is no way he can deny him this, not when Dries is kneeling between his knees and smiling up at him like that. “Yeah,” he says. It comes out low and rough. He clears his throat. “Okay.” 

Dries nuzzles his knee. Gonzalo reaches out and runs his hand over the top of Dries’ head. His hair is soft and a little damp. Dries likes to shower before bed. Dries tips his head up and Gonzalo lets his hand slide down to the nape of Dries’ neck. Dries smiles. “Do you,” he says, soft and low, “want…” and he leans in and rubs his cheek along Gonzalo’s leg then presses his face against the inside of Gonzalo’s thigh. It’s more affectionate than sexual. But Dries is like that. Easy and generous with his affection and his body. Sometimes it seems like sex is just another way he offers his affection.

Gonzalo squeezes the nape of Dries’ neck. Dries makes a soft, purring sound. It’d be good. Dries is always good. He sucks dick like it’s what he was put on earth to do. But really, what Gonzalo wants right now, is just to crawl in bed and let Dries curl around him the way he always does whenever they sleep together. Gonzalo ruffles Dries’ hair. “Nah,” he says, “Not right now. Just, uh, kinda just want to go to bed, okay?” 

Dries turns his head and smiles up at Gonzalo. “Okay,” he says. He straightens up and goes back to work on Gonzalo’s shoelaces. He tugs off Gonzalo’s right shoe and tosses it aside then goes to work on his left. Once he’s gotten it off, he curls his hand around Gonzalo’s ankle and says, “Socks? On or off?” 

“Uh,” Gonzalo says, “Off.” 

“Okay,” Dries says and peels off Gonzalo’s socks. He tosses them in the same direction as Gonzalo’s shoes then puts his hands on Gonzalo’s knees and pushes himself up. He smiles a little. “Can you get yourself up or…” He holds out his hand and wiggles his fingers. 

Just to see Dries’ reaction, Gonzalo reaches out and takes Dries’ hand. 

Dries rolls his eyes but he pulls Gonzalo up. They sway for a second. Gonzalo grabs Dries’ shoulder and steadies him. Dries laughs a little. “Should’ve made you get yourself up.” 

“Whatever,” Gonzalo says, fiddling with one of the strings on the hoodie Dries is wearing. The one that definitely isn’t his. He tugs on the string. “Who’d you steal this one from?” Dries is a inveterate clothes thief. Gonzalo’s lost count of the hoodies and shirts he’s lost to him. He doesn’t mind. He likes seeing Dries in _his_ stuff even if he doesn’t like to dwell on why. Just like he doesn’t like to dwell on why he _doesn’t like_ seeing him wear other people’s stuff (except for Marek’s stuff, that he doesn’t really mind).

Dries looks down and frowns. “Uh, I dunno?” He shrugs. “Mousa, maybe?” 

Gonzalo thinks that’s one of his international teammates. Gonzalo drops the string. “Someday,” he says lightly, instead of frowning and asking when he took the hoodie and why, “You’re going to steal from the wrong person.” 

Dries laughs. “Maybe. Maybe.” He smiles slyly at Gonzalo. “You don’t mind when I take your stuff, though.” 

Gonzalo shrugs. “Nah,” he says, as casually as he can, “It’s fine.” 

Dries pats Gonzalo’s chest. “Good,” he says. He starts unbuttoning Gonzalo’s shirt. “Because I kind of like this shirt.” 

Gonzalo smiles. “I’m not going to have any clothes left at this rate.” 

Dries wiggles his eyebrows suggestively and starts pushing the shirt down Gonzalo’s shoulders. “All part of my plan.” 

Gonzalo laughs. “Oh? What plan is that?” 

Dries smiles and drops the shirt on the floor. “Oh, you know, my plan to have you naked all the time.” 

“All the time?” Gonzalo says, trying his best not to laugh, “What about matches and training?” 

Dries wrinkles his nose. “Maybe I’d make an exception for matches and for training,” he says, very seriously, “Maybe.” 

“You don’t have to go to all that trouble,” Gonzalo says, “You want me naked you just have to ask.”

“Lies,” Dries says, smiling a little, “You don’t get naked for me nearly enough.” 

Gonzalo does laugh then. “Well,” he says, “I guess, I’ll have to work on that.” 

Dries nods decisively. “See that you do.” He tugs on Gonzalo’s t-shirt. “You want to sleep in this?”

“Yeah,” Gonzalo says. 

“‘Kay,” Dries says and starts working on the button of Gonzalo’s jeans. He makes quick work of Gonzalo’s button and zipper. Then he pushes Gonzalo’s jeans down his hips. They aren’t too tight so they come off relatively easily. “Just,” Dries says, waving his hand in the direction of the rest of Gonzalo’s clothes, “Kick’em over there or something.” Gonzalo steps out of them and gives them a kick. They flop in the direction of his shoes. Well, kind of. Dries shrugs. “Good enough.” He tucks his fingers into the waistband of Gonzalo’s boxers. 

“Uh,” Gonzalo says, “Think I’ll leave those on.” 

Dries smiles. “‘Kay.” He loops his arms around Gonzalo’s waist and leans into him. “So, bed?” 

“Yeah,” Gonzalo says, “Uh, just, I’ve got to piss first.”

“Well, go on, then,” Dries says. He lets Gonzalo go and gives him a little shove. 

Gonzalo stumbles back laughing. “Yeah. Okay,” he says.

When Gonzalo comes back from the bathroom, Dries is in bed looking at his phone. The hoodie he’d been wearing is on the floor on top of Gonzalo’s jeans and his flip-flops are next to one of Gonazlo’s shoes. He looks up and smiles at Gonzalo. “Hey,” he says, “Get the light then c’mere.” 

Gonzalo goes and switches off the light. The only window has heavy drapes so the only light left is from Dries’ phone. Gonzalo shuffles towards the bed hoping he won’t trip over his own shoes or some shit. He makes it with out falling and breaking his neck and climbs under the covers. “Let me just,” Dries says and he leans over and puts his phone on the nightstand. Gonzalo settles himself into a comfortable position and waits. 

He doesn’t have to wait long. Dries shifts over and settles himself against Gonzalo’s chest. Gonzalo curls his arm around him. They’ve done this so many times now. This is the way Dries likes to be held after sex. Gonzalo’s learned just how to arrange them so they’re both comfortable. 

“So,” Dries says, after they’re suitably arranged, “Did you and Marek, I mean, are you guys all good?” 

“Yeah,” Gonzalo says. And they are. Maybe he’s not sure what exactly that’s going to mean. But they’re good.

“S’good,” Dries says, nuzzling Gonzalo’s chest, “M’glad.” 

Gonzalo plucks at Dries’ t-shirt. “Did, uh, did he get you drunk when you guys talked about, you know…” 

Dries laughs a little. “Nah,” he says, “He did make me keep my clothes on though.” 

Gonzalo laughs. “I know how hard that is for you.” 

Dries nods. Gonzalo can’t see it in the dark but he can feel the back and forth motion of Dries’ head against his chest. “So hard.” 

“Uh…” Gonzalo fists his hand in Dries’ shirt. Here, in the dark, still a little drunk, Dries heavy and warm against his side, it’s easy to talk. Easy to imagine asking questions he’s never let himself think about asking before. “I…” He trails off. Easier but still not easy.

“What?” Dries says.

“Marek said I should ask you to jerk off for me.” It’s not even close to what he was thinking about saying but it’s much easier to say. Easier to talk about.

“Oh, yeah?” 

Gonzalo lets go of Dries’ shirt and flattens his hand against his back. “Yeah.” 

“‘Kay,” Dries says. He’s starting to sound sleepy. His words are low and murmuring, “Not right now, though, Pipa, ‘kay.” 

Gonzalo smiles a little and rubs Dries’ back. “‘Course not right now. But, uh, you would?”

“‘Course,” Dries says, “If you want me to.”

“I, uh,” he says, “Yeah, I do,” because maybe he didn’t mean to bring it up but he really _does_ want Dries to do it. 

“ _Mmm,_ ‘kay,” Dries says. 

Dries is right on the edge of sleep. Gonzalo can tell from the way his voice slurs, the way he’s slumped, totally relaxed, against Gonzalo’s side. Gonzalo should close his eyes. Follow him into sleep. He doesn’t. “Hey, Dries,” he says.

“ _Hmm_ , yeah?” 

And Gonzalo almost says _never mind, go to sleep_. Almost. Instead, he actually asks what he meant to ask a minute ago. “When, uh, you know, when it’s just you and me, do, uh, do you miss, like, what you do with Marek? Do, uh, do you want me to…you know?” 

Dries is quiet for what seems like a long time. Gonzalo starts to wonder if he’s fallen asleep. Starts to feel like an idiot for saying any of that out loud. “Dries?” he says quietly, “You don’t, I mean, forg—“

Dries interrupts him. “No, hey, Pipa, _Pipa_.” He pushes himself up and props himself up on Gonzalo’s chest. Gonzalo can just make out the contours of his face in the dark. “What we do, I like it so much, ‘kay? What me and Marek do, I like that too. And what we all do together. S’all different, yeah, but I don’t like one more than the other, ‘kay? I just— I, uh, I don’t want - don’t need - you to give me what Marek does, just need you to give me what _you_ do.” 

With every word he says, it’s like something’s untwisting inside Gonzalo, like some weight he didn’t know he was carrying around is sliding away. “Yeah?” he says and it comes out hoarse and a little strangled. 

“Yeah,” Dries says, low and sure, “Pipa. Don’t— Never think you don’t give me exactly what I want from you. Because you do. And it’s _so_ good. You’re so good to me.” 

And Gonzalo’s glad it’s dark. That Dries can’t see his face. Because his reaction’s too intense, too _much_. It’s— He doesn’t know what to say. Doesn’t know if he could speak if he tried. He reaches out. Fumbles his hand along Dries’ shoulder, clutches the nape of his neck, and drags him into a kiss. It’s awful. He misses most of Dries’s mouth. His lips slide along Dries’ jaw. across his beard. It leaves his lips tingling and raw and him desperate for more. 

Dries makes a rough, wanting sound and turns and catches Gonzalo’s mouth with his. It’s a sloppy, desperate, _terrible_ kiss. Gonzalo doesn’t care. He funnels his fingers into Dries’ hair. He holds Dries to him and slows the kiss down. Gentles it. Dries makes a soft, humming sound and relaxes against him, lets Gonzalo do whatever he wants. 

When Gonzalo relinquishes his mouth, Dries doesn’t move away. He rests his forehead against Gonzalo’s and says, softly, “All right, Pipa?” 

Gonzalo curls his hand around the nape of his neck. “Yeah,” he says, “Dries, all right.” 

Dries kisses him. Soft and sweet. Then he squirms his way down until he’s tucked against Gonzalo’s chest again. Gonzalo curls his arm around him and shifts them until they’re rearranged the way they were before. “Can we sleep now?” Dries says. 

Gonzalo smiles. “Yeah,” he says, turning and kissing the top of his head, “We can sleep now,” and closes his eyes.

***

When Gonzalo wakes up, there’s just enough light peeking out from under the bottom on the drapes to tell him it’s morning. His mouth is too dry and a truly unpleasant taste is lingering on his tongue. He swallows. It doesn’t really make anything better but it doesn’t make it worse. There’s a low-grade pounding in his head right behind his eyes.

Really, the only good thing about waking up, is that Dries is still tucked right against his side. Most of the time they roll apart during the night. But sometimes, like today, they wake up in almost exactly the same position they fell asleep in. Those are Gonzalo’s favorite mornings. If Gonzalo wakes up first, he likes to just lay there and wait for Dries to wake up. It’s just— It’s nice. 

The door opens and Marek slips into the room. Dries doesn’t stir. Gonzalo lifts his free hand to his mouth and puts his finger his lips and tips his head toward Dries. Marek nods. 

He’s wearing gray sweatpants, a loose black t-shirt, and no shoes. There’s no gel in his hair and he’s wearing his glasses. It’s rare Gonzalo sees him like this. So stripped down. He can count the number of times on one hand.  
Marek leaves the door open behind him and light spills into the room from the hall. He makes his way towards the bed. He’s carrying a mug and a bottle of water. When he gets closer, Gonzalo can smell coffee. He smiles. If he wasn’t afraid of waking Dries up, he’d give Marek so much shit for actually making Dries coffee. 

Marek carefully sets the mug and the bottle of water on the nightstand. Then he perches on the side of the bed next to Gonzalo. “Hey,” Marek says quietly, “How you doing?”

“Okay,” Gonzalo says. And he is. Mostly. The pounding in his head is receding a bit. It’s not gone but it is better. 

Marek skims his hand across Gonzalo’s forehead and over the top of his head. His palm is cool and his touch is more soothing than Gonzalo wants to admit. “Head hurt?” Marek says. 

“A little,” Gonzalo says, “Not too bad.” 

Marek smiles a little. “That’s good.” He pauses. “You’re not going to puke all over me are you?” 

“Fuck you,” Gonzalo says. He forgets to be quiet. He glances over at Dries and waits. Dries makes a low, murmuring sound but he doesn’t stir. “That,” he hisses, “happened once, Marek. _Once_.”

Marek laughs a little. “That’s one too many times, Pipita.”

Gonzalo rolls his eyes. “M’fine, though, not going to…”

“Good,” Marek says. He pats Gonzalo’s shoulder. “When Dries wakes up, have some water.” 

“M’awake,” Dries says. He rubs his cheek against Gonzalo’s chest then pushes himself up a little. “Hey, Marek.” 

Marek smiles. “‘Morning, Dries.” 

“Hey,” Gonzalo says, rubbing his hand along Dries’ back, “Did we wake you up? Sorry.” 

Dries arches up against Gonzalo’s hand like a pleased, sleepy cat. “S’okay, Pipa.” He squirms his way up into a sitting position. “I smell coffee,” he says, his voice low and a little rough, the way it always is when he first gets up, “Hand it over, Marek.” 

Marek laughs a little. “Who says I made it for you? Maybe it’s for Pipita? Maybe it’s for me?”

“Don’t care,” Dries says. He makes a grabby motion with his hands. “Give it.” 

Marek grabs the mug off the nightstand and hands it to Dries. “There you go.” 

Dries smiles brilliantly and takes a sip. “Thanks, Marek.” He settles himself against the headboard, clutching his prize. 

Gonzalo pushes himself up into a sitting position. He nudges his shoulder against Dries’. “Maybe I wanted coffee.” 

Dries snorts. “You don’t.” 

It’s true but Gonzalo still says, “You don’t know that.” 

“I really do,” Dries says, “Drink your water.” 

“Scoot over,” Marek says. Gonzalo and Dries both shuffle over to make room for him. Marek swings his legs up onto the bed and settles in next to Gonzalo. He hands Gonzalo the bottle of water. “You heard our boy, Pipita, drink your water.” 

Gonzalo opens the bottle and takes a sip. The first sip is perfect. Clear and cool. It washes away the unpleasant taste lingering in the back of his mouth. 

They sit there for awhile in companionable silence. Gonzalo drinks his water slowly and Dries sips his coffee. 

Once Gonzalo finishes his water, he feels almost normal. The pounding in his head’s almost gone. “So,” he says. He screws the lid back on the empty bottle. Then, even though he’s not sure he’s quite up for food yet, he says, “Uh, breakfast or…” 

Marek puts his hand on his knee. “Maybe in a while.” He runs his fingers along the side of Gonzalo’s knee. “Was thinking, maybe, if you’re up to it, we’d do something else first…”

Gonzalo curls his hand around his empty water bottle. “Like?” he says even though he’s pretty sure he knows where this is going

Marek pats Gonzalo’s knee. “I was thinking, maybe, we’d have Dries take off all his clothes and jerk off for us.” 

“‘M’finishing my coffee first,” Dries says. 

Marek laughs. “Of course.” He pauses. “What do you think, Pipita? You like that idea?” 

Gonzalo squeezes the empty water bottle. Crushes it in his fist. “I, uh…” 

“Or,” Marek says casually, “We can have breakfast.” 

“No,” Gonzalo says. Because _fuck breakfast_. And _fuck Marek_ too for bringing something like that up then dropping it again just as fast. 

“No?” Marek says. He sounds smugly amused. It kind of makes Gonzalo want to punch him.

Instead he says, “No,” as firmly as he can.

“All right,” Marek says. He still sounds amused. _The bastard_. “Finish your coffee, Dries.” He says it casually but it doesn’t sound like a request.  
“Okay,” Dries says. Easy. Like he doesn’t like to linger over his first cup of coffee in the morning and bitches at anyone who tries to rush him. And it feels a little like he and Marek have already started something and Gonzalo’s still trying to catch up.

“I, uh,” Gonzalo says, because he needs to get out from between them for a second, just needs a minute, “Just got to piss.” He scrambles out from between them and off the bed. He drops the crushed water bottle and heads to the bathroom without looking back. 

He does actually have to piss. He does that first. Then he washes his hands and, for good measure, his face. The warm water feels good on his face. Wakes him up a little. Washes away the last, lingering effects of last night. He grabs what’s become his toothbrush. Marek keeps spares but Gonzalo had used this one awhile back and Marek had left in the bathroom for him. Dries has one too. He brushes his teeth then cups some water in his mouth and rinses. He rubs his hand across his mouth and stares at himself in the mirror. He looks more than a little rough. He runs his hand through his hair. That doesn’t really help matters. He shakes his head. He’s wasted enough time. He turns around and heads back into the bedroom.

The covers have been pushed all the way down to the end of the bed. Dries’ coffee mug is sitting on the nightstand closest to him. Dries and Marek are sitting next to each other in the middle of the bed. Marek’s arm is slung across Dries’ shoulders and he’s whispering in Dries’ ear. Gonzalo stands just inside the room and watches them for moment. 

Sometimes, he looks at them together and they look so right together and he thinks, _what the fuck am I doing?_. He scrubs his hand over his face and shakes his head. Thinks of Dries whispering to him in the dark, _you’re so good to me_ , and the desperate, grasping way Dries had kissed him. And he knows, whatever the fuck he’s doing, he won’t give it up. _Can’t_. 

Both of them look at him and smile. He steps forward before he thinks then stops. “C’mon, Pipita,” Marek says, “C’mere.” Gonzalo smiles and goes toward the bed. He stops at the foot. Unsure what to do next. “Sit,” Marek says, “There at the end.” He points at the foot of the bed. Gonzalo gets onto the bed. He’s not sure how to sit or where. He shuffles to the middle. Marek’s watching him. “Hmm,” he says, “On your knees, I think.” 

Some part of him balks. The part that still can’t quite believe yesterday’s conversation happened, that he’d said those things, _admitted_ those things. But that part of him doesn’t win. He kneels on the bed and looks at Marek to see what’s next. Marek smiles encouragingly. Gonzalo’s not sure how he feels about that but he still craves the reassurance. “You comfortable, Pipita?” Marek says. 

Gonzalo shifts a little. Settles himself. He’s not uncomfortable. It’s not the position he would have chosen but it’s okay. He nods. “Say it for me, Pipita,” Marek says. 

“Yeah,” Gonzalo says, “I’m good.” 

Marek smiles. “Good.” 

Gonzalo looks away from him. But then he doesn’t know where to look. He looks down at his hands. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He puts them on his knees. Then he lifts them back up and fiddles with his fingers. “Pipita,” Marek says. Gonzalo looks back at him. “Put your hands on your thighs.” Gonzalo puts his hands on his thighs. Rests them flat. And he feels something like relief to have someone else decide. To have _Marek_ decide. To just do as he’s told. “There you go, Pipita,” Marek says, “That’s good.” And Marek’s praise makes him feel good. Warm and pleased. Gonzalo didn’t expect that.

Then Marek turns his attention away from Gonzalo. He leans over and paws through the drawer of the nightstand closest to him. He fishes out a container of lube and tosses it onto the bed next to Dries. Dries reaches for it but Marek stills his hand. Marek leans in and whispers something in Dries’ ear. Then he fists his hand in Dries’ hair, tips his head back, and kisses him. Dries clutches at Marek’s shirt and makes these soft, desperate sounds that drive Gonzalo a little crazy. When Marek lets Dries go, his mouth is slick and red and he looks almost dazed. Gonzalo stares at him and licks his lips. Dries smiles at him, slow and open.

Marek moves away from Dries. But Gonzalo doesn’t look at him. He’s still staring at Dries’ smile. At the way his lips are wet and slightly parted. “Pipita,” Marek says softly, “Look at me.” 

Gonzalo’s slow to react but he manages to tear his gaze away. Marek’s sitting cross-legged at the edge of the bed, right in the middle, so that he, Gonzalo, and Dries form a triangle of sorts. “So,” Marek says, “You ready?”

Gonzalo almost nods then thinks of what Marek said before, _say it for me_ , and stops himself. “Yeah,” he says.

Marek smiles. “Okay,” he says. Then he turns away from Gonzalo and says to Dries, “Take off your shirt.” 

Dries straightens up and unceremoniously pulls his t-shirt over his head and tosses it on the floor. It’s pretty typical. Dries likes to be naked but he doesn’t like to make a show out of it he just likes to do it as fast as possible. “Good,” Marek says, “Lean back against the headboard.” Dries settles himself against the headboard. He bends his knees and spreads his legs open wide. “That’s good,” Marek says, “Now put your fingers in your mouth.”

Dries doesn’t look at Marek when he does it. He stares straight at Gonzalo. He holds Gonzalo’s gaze and slides two of his fingers into his mouth. Gonzalo swallows. “Get them nice and wet for me, Dries,” Marek says. Dries sucks on his fingers and the sound, _Christ_ , the lewd, wet sound of it, makes Gonzalo want to squirm. “That’s it,” Marek says, “That’s so good. Now, I want you to touch your nipples for me.” 

Dries pulls his fingers out of his mouth. Slow. Then he drags them down his throat and his chest. He circles one nipple than the other. Moves his fingers in slow, deliberate strokes, leaving wet, glistening trails along his skin. His mouth is open. Still slick and wet. He’s flushed. Pink spilling across his cheeks and throat. He makes these _sounds_ when he drags his wet fingertips across his nipples. Soft and mewling. Like he can’t help himself. 

Gonzalo digs his fingers into his thighs. 

“You’re doing so well, Dries,” Marek says, “Now pinch them for me.” 

Dries pinches and twists each in turn. His hips stutter up when he does. Looking for a touch that isn’t coming. He’s hard. Gonzalo can see his dick straining against his pants. “Good,” Marek says, “So good. You’re so desperate to touch your dick, aren’t you?” 

“Marek,” Dries says, low and rough, “ _Marek_ , please let me.” And Gonzalo wants to plead along with him.

“ _Hmm_ ,” Marek says, “What do you think, Pipita?” 

“I, uh,” Gonzalo stammers, “Yeah, uh, let him.” 

“All right,” Marek says, “Rub your dick for us, Dries, through your pants. Give Pipita what he wants.” 

Dries slides his hand down his chest and cups his dick. He rubs his hand along it and his eyes flutter closed for second. “That’s it,” Marek says, “Pinch your nipples with your other hand.” 

Dries makes such a picture. Hand splayed across his crotch, pushing up against his hand, like he’s desperate for the friction. Plucking at his nipples with his other hand. Twisting one, then the other. He’s really flushed now. Red in the face. And sweating. His chest gleams with it. He’s biting his lower lip, like he’s trying to fight back the sounds he’s making. It’s not working. He’s making these breathy, wanting sounds. Like the touch of his own hands is just so good. Like he can’t even help himself. 

Gonzalo rubs his thumbs along the inside of his thighs. Back and forth. He doesn’t want to touch his dick. Not yet. Doesn’t want this to be over too fast. He wants to drag his own pleasure out. Wants to see what else Marek will have Dries do. But he needs something. Some kind of touch. 

“You like that, Pipita?” Marek says, “That what you wanted to see?” 

Gonzalo blinks. Has to force himself to look away from Dries. To look at Marek. Marek’s smiling. Like he already knows the answer. “Yeah,” Gonzalo says, and it comes out broken and rough, “Yeah.” 

Marek looks him up and down. Gonzalo has to force himself not to squirm. He’s not used to being the object of Marek’s gaze. “You don’t,” Marek says, “Want to touch yourself?” 

“I, uh,” Gonzalo looks down. He’s blushing and he hates that. “Not right now.” 

Marek’s quiet for a moment then he says, “What if I told you that you couldn’t touch yourself until Dries comes? Would you do it?” 

Gonzalo digs his fingers into his thighs. He does that sometimes when he watches them. He waits and waits and _waits_. Until his anticipation and wanting are like a twisting, living thing under his skin. And then, when he finally touches himself, lets himself get off, it’s— He doesn’t even have the fucking words. 

“I see you,” Marek says, low and soft, “When you’re watching us. I see you wait and wait. So I know you like that, like to watch but not let yourself touch. This would be kind of like that.” 

And the more he talks, the more Gonzalo wants to try it, wants to know what it’d be like. If it’d be good. Be _better_. He takes a slow, shuddering breath. He looks up. “Tell me,” he says, quick, before he can change his mind. 

Marek stares at him for a second. “Okay,” he says, “Don’t touch yourself until Dries comes.” Then he looks away from Gonzalo and says to Dries, “Take off your pants.”

Gonzalo looks back at Dries and watches him shimmy out of his pants and throw them on the floor. “Underwear too,” Marek says. And, seconds later, Dries is naked. “Lean back against the headboard,” Marek says, “Sit like before and just let us look at you for a minute.” 

Dries settles himself against the headboard. Sits with his knees bent and his legs spread wide. It’s a pose that shows off everything. Dries’ dick is as pretty as the rest of him. And he looks so good, leaning back like that. His legs splayed wide. His dick jutting out in front of his sweat-slick abs. His hands are clutched around the tops of his thighs, like he’s physically restraining himself from putting his hands on his dick. Gonzalo could look at him like this forever.

“Look at our boy, Pipita,” Marek says, his voice gone a little rough, “Pretty as a fucking picture.” 

Gonzalo’s mouth’s gone dry. He has to swallow before he can speak. “Yeah.” 

Dries makes a soft, impatient sound. Marek laughs a little. “You want something, _hmm,_ Dries?” 

Dries licks his lips. “Yeah.” 

“Ask nicely,” Marek says, “Maybe you can have it.” 

“Let me touch my dick, Marek. Please.” If Dries asked Gonzalo for anything in that desperate wanting tone, he’d give it to him as soon as he asked for it.

Marek waits a moment, like he’s seriously considering saying _no_ , or some shit. But he doesn’t say no. He says, “Okay,” casually, like he isn’t fussed one way or the other, “Use some lube and go slow, _hmm_ , for now.” 

Dries nods. “Yeah,” he says, “Okay.” He fumbles with the lube and squirts some into his palm. 

When Dries curls his hand around his dick, he shudders a little. His head falls back against the wall and he makes this _sound_. Gonzalo digs his thumbs into his thighs. Hard. 

Dries moves his hand up and down his dick in languidly slow strokes. His hips jerk up a little with each stroke of his hand. Like he’s desperate for more. Gonzalo fists his hands in his boxers. Because he wants to put his hand on his dick. Wants to mirror every stroke of Dries’ hand on himself. But he’d said he’d wait. And he _wants_ to wait. He does. But, _Christ_ , how he wants to just touch himself right _now_ , just rub his hand right along his dick. But he won’t. He’s waiting. Because Marek said to. Because it’ll be better if he waits. And he said he could. And _fuck_ if he’s going to make a liar of himself. 

“That’s it,” Marek says, softly, “You’re doing so good, Dries.” 

Dries moans a little, soft and broken. “Yeah,” he says, “But, Marek. _Marek_. Please.” 

“ _Shh_ ,” Marek says, “Soon. Just keep going. Nice and slow. Give Pipita a show. Look at him, Dries, _hmm_ , see how much he likes watching you like this.” Dries lifts his head a little. He looks Gonzalo up and down. And then he smiles, slow and satisfied. “See,” Marek says.

“ _Mmm_ ,” Dries says, dropping his head back against the wall, “Yeah.” 

“You know he likes that,” Marek says, “Being so good for me. For _you_.” Gonzalo looks at him. Marek smiles. “Gets off on knowing you like what you see.” Gonzalo doesn’t know if he’s supposed to say something. Doesn’t know if he _can_ say anything. 

“How’re you doing there, Pipita?” Marek says.

Gonzalo bites his lower lip. Just lets the sting of pain distract him for a second. “I,” he says, “uh uh, I’m good.”

“You sure,” Marek says, his voice low, “Looks to me like you’re barely keeping your hands off your dick.”

He’s not wrong. But Gonzalo’s waiting. _Wants_ to wait. Wants— “What if—” he says, then stops. Bites his lip again. Because he _can’t_ say that. Even if the thought of it makes his breath catch. Makes him sweat and _want_ until he can hardly think straight. 

“What if what? Pipita?” Marek says. 

Gonzalo shakes his head. “Nothing. Never mind. It’s—“

“Pipita,” Marek says, softly, “I know I told you to, but if…“

Gonzalo cuts him off. “It’s not that. It’s— What if—“ He stops again. Takes a slow, shuddering breath. “What if,” he says, so rough and low he hardly recognizes his own voice, “I, uh, couldn’t even if I wanted to.” 

Marek’s eyes go wide. Like Gonzalo’s actually surprised him. Gonzalo feels a little stab of satisfaction. Marek’s hard to surprise. “Like,” Marek says slowly, “what, Pipita? Like if you were tied up or something?” 

Gonzalo licks his lips. He’s already said it. No reason to deny it. He nods. “Uh, yeah.” 

“Huh,” Marek says. He pauses. Then he smiles a little and says, “Well, it’s a little late for that right now.” 

Gonzalo rolls his eyes. “I know.” 

Marek laughs a little. “But we could do that sometime, if you wanted. We could tie you up. Make—“

Gonzalo interrupts him. “You,” he says, “ _You_ could,” because, to his intense surprise, it’s not something he wants from Dries, it’s something he wants from _Marek_. 

Marek startles a little. Then he shrugs and says, “Okay, I could. Tie you up. Make you watch while I do whatever I want with Dries, _hmm_ , knowing you can’t even touch yourself, can’t move until I let you? Is that what you want, Pipita?” 

Gonzalo has to look away from him then. Has to look down and dig his fingers hard into his thighs and just breathe for a second. “Yeah,” he says, voice barely above a whisper, “I, uh, yeah.”

“Hey,” Marek says, “Look at me.” 

Gonzalo looks up. He looks at Dries first. Dries is still touching himself. Still running his hand up and down his dick. Because Marek hasn’t told him to stop. He smiles at Gonzalo. Gonzalo watches him for a moment. Just lets himself get lost in the gorgeous spectacle of him. 

“Pipita,” Marek says softly, “C’mon, look at me.” 

Gonzalo turns his head. Marek’s looking at him with such an earnest expression that Gonzalo almost wants to look away again. “It’s all right, you know,” he says, “You can have that from me if you want it, or not, okay? You just have to ask.”

Gonzalo nods. “Okay,” he says. He pauses. He forces himself to keep looking at Marek and adds, “And, uh I do, you know, want it.” 

Marek smiles. “Okay,” he says, “You want to try something right now?” 

Gonzalo’s not sure what he means. Marek had just said it was too late for this right now. He still says, “Uh, okay.”

“Get up on your knees,” Marek says. And his tone has shifted a little. Gone a little harder. 

Gonzalo pushes up onto his knees. “That’s good,” Marek says, “Look at Dries, okay? We’ve been ignoring him a little and he hates that.” Gonzalo laughs a little. Because Dries _really_ does hate that. Gonzalo looks at him. Dries is pouting. Like he’s offended. 

“Put your hands behind your back,” Marek says. 

Gonzalo puts his hands behind his back. Curls his right hand around his left wrist and waits. “Okay,” Marek says, “That’s good.” He moves. Gonzalo can feel the bed move. And he can just see Marek moving out of the corner of his eye. He’s still staring straight at Dries.

Then Marek’s right there. Kneeling next to him. So close their knees nudge together. “I’m going to try something, Pipita, okay?” he says, voice pitched low, just for Gonzalo, “If you don’t like it, just tell me to stop and I will, okay?” 

Gonzalo swallows hard. “Okay.” 

“Move forward a little,” Marek says.

Gonzalo shuffles forward. It’s not that easy with his hands behind his back but he manages. Marek moves behind him. Close. He’s kneeling right behind Gonzalo. Boxing him in. His calves pressed to the outside of Gonzalo’s calves. “Let go of your wrist,” Marek says, right in Gonzalo’s ear. Gonzalo can feel the warmth of his breath on his skin. They don’t usually get this close in bed. Not without Dries between them. It’s— _Fuck_ , he doesn’t know. He lets go of his wrist. Lets his arms dangle behind his back. 

Marek curls his hands around Gonzalo’s wrists. His hands are warm and his grip is firm but not too tight. He draws Gonzalo’s wrists together and holds them right at the small of Gonzalo’s back. “This okay, Pipita?” Gonzalo shifts a little. Tests Marek’s grip. Marek tightens his hold. It’s— It’s _good_. 

“Yeah,” he says and his voice shakes a little, “S’good.” And it _is_. Better than he thought it’d be. There’s something about being surrounded by Marek, about being held so securely. It’s— He just wants to relax into it. Wants to lean back into Marek and just let him hold him up. 

“Okay,” Marek says. He shifts a little closer. “I’ll let you go when Dries comes. Until then…“ He squeezes Gonzalo’s wrists. “I’m keeping you like this. Keeping you right here. Okay?” 

“Yeah,” Gonzalo says, and he slumps a little, leans back into Marek, “Okay.” 

Marek lets him. “I’ve got you, Pipita, all right,” he says, right in Gonzalo’s ear, he’s so close Gonzalo can feel his mouth move, “Now look at our boy and watch what I’m going to make him do next.” 

Gonzalo had never stopped looking. Dries is sitting up, leaning towards them, and staring at them. He looks transfixed. His hand is still on his dick, curled loosely around the base, but he’s stopped stroking himself. “Think,” Marek says, soft and a little amused, “he likes what he sees.” Then he raises his voice and says, “Did I tell you to stop?” 

Dries blinks. “I, uh,” he says, slow and a little shaky, “no.”

“Well?” Marek says. 

Dries smiles and relaxes back against the headboard. He drags his hand up his dick, slow and deliberate, and rubs his palm over the head, then drags his hand back down. “That’s better,” Marek says, “You can go a little faster if you want, but don’t come, Dries, I want you to do something else for me and Pipita before you come.” 

“ _Mmm_ ,” Dries says, his head falling back against the wall, “‘kay.” He starts working his hand a little faster on his dick. Rocking his hips up to meet the strokes of his hand. 

Gonzalo squirms. His own hips jerking forward. “Easy, Pipita,” Marek murmurs, “Try and hold still because, if you can’t,” he squeezes Gonzalo’s wrists, “I will hold you still.”

Gonzalo takes a slow, shaky breath. “Yeah,” he says, “Okay.” 

“Good,” Marek says, his voice still pitched low, “Now watch this.” He raises his voice and says, “Dries, I want you to get your fingers all slicked up, but don’t stop what you’re doing.” 

Gonzalo’s breath catches. “You’re—” he blurts, “He’s going to—“ 

“Oh,” Marek says, “ _Yeah_. You like that idea, _hmm_ , Pipita? You want to see our boy fuck himself with his fingers?”

Just the thought of it makes Gonzalo sweat. Makes his dick jerk. He could come just thinking about it. _Seeing_ it— _Fuck_. He closes his eyes for a second. Takes a long, slow, breath. He opens his eyes. Dries is still working his dick with one hand and the fingers of his other hand are slick and wet with lube. Gonzalo licks his lips. He has to answer Marek. Has to say something. But speaking, _Christ_ , he’s not sure he can. He takes another long, slow breath. “Yes,” he says, “Yeah, _fuck_ , Marek.” 

“Yeah,” Marek says, his voice gone rough and low, “You do like it, don’t you? Wait until you see it, Pipita.” 

“Please,” Gonzalo says, the words spilling out of him before he can stop them, “ _Please_ , Marek, c’mon just—“ 

Marek cuts him off. “Okay,” he says, “Okay.” He pauses for a moment then says, “Dries, just move down a little, _hmm_ , get on your back, but keep your legs spread for me, huh, so Pipita can see you.” 

Dries scoots down until he’s mostly on his back. Then he spreads his legs wide. “That’s it, Dries,” Marek says, “That’s so good. Now just touch your hole first, rub your fingers over it, get it all wet for me.”

Gonzalo bites down on his lower lip. Hard. But it’s not enough to stop the noise he makes. Rough and gasping. Then Dries actually _does_ it. Pushes himself up off the bed and runs his slick fingers along the crack of his ass, rubs them across his hole. And, while he does it, he makes these _sounds_. Mewling and begging. 

“Marek,” Gonzalo says, and it comes out stretched and broken, “ _Marek_. 

“ _Shh_ , Pipita, watch,” Marek says, pulling Gonzalo back against him, “That’s so good, Dries. You want to put your fingers in, want to fuck yourself with them?” 

Dries lifts his head. His face is red and his hairline is damp with sweat. “Yes, _fuck_ , Marek,” his voice cracks a little, “ _Please_.” 

“Okay,” Marek says, “Start with one. Go slow.” 

Dries’ head falls back. And then he pushes up off the bed and slides one finger inside himself. Slow. When he has it all the way inside himself, he makes this soft, breathy gasp of a sound. And Gonzalo lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Because, _Christ_. 

“ _Mmm_ ,” Dries says, his words slow and slurring, “Marek. _Marek_ , please.” 

“Look at him, Pipita,” Marek says, “Look how desperate he is to have something more, _anything_ more, inside him.” 

“Just,” Gonzalo says, “let him,” because he doesn’t know how much longer he can wait. How much more of this he can _take_.

“For you, Pipita,” Marek says, “All right.” Then he says to Dries, “Use another finger if you want, but, I want you to touch yourself too, want you to jerk off for me and Pipita.” 

Dries barely waits for Marek to finish speaking. He slides his finger out of his ass and immediately pushes two of his fingers back in. He goes faster this time. Like he’s desperate to have them inside himself. Then he puts his hand back on his dick. And _moves_. He moves his hand up and down his dick in quick strokes, and fucks himself with his fingers, lifting his hips up then grinding down on his fingers. 

And Gonzalo moves too, lurching forward, wanting, _needing_ , to be closer. He jerks his arm forward, mindless, unthinking, desperate to get out of Marek’s hold and get his hand on his dick. Or on Dries. He doesn’t even fucking know anymore. He just needs _something_. 

He doesn’t get anywhere. Marek hauls him back, his grip hard and sure around Gonzalo’s wrists. “No. Hey. Easy,” he murmurs, “Wait, Pipita, just wait, you can do it.” And Gonzalo would tell him to go fuck himself if he could talk, or _think_. But he _can’t_. There’s nothing in his head except Dries, the way he looks, the movement of his hands on his body - _into_ his body - the constant stream of sounds he’s making, low and moaning and desperate. Gonzalo feels like he could come between one breath and the next. Like he wouldn’t even need to be touched.

Marek digs his fingers hard into the underside of Gonzalo’s wrists. “Come on, Pipita,” he murmurs, right in Gonzalo’s ear, “Come on. Easy.” And he’s so _close_. Holding Gonzalo right against his chest. Gonzalo’s too hot. Sweating. And Marek’s closeness makes him— _Fuck_. He doesn’t know. But it doesn’t help and it _does_. He breathes. In and out. “That’s it,” Marek says, “That’s good.” He kisses Gonzalo’s cheek, light and quick, and his mouth is warm and soft. And Gonzalo wants to lean into his touch and jerk away at the same time. “Watch,” Marek says, “Just keep watching.” 

Marek pulls away a little. “Dries,” he says, raising his voice, “You can come, now, anytime you want. Come for me, for Pipita, _hmm_ , we want to see you.” Dries arches up as Marek talks. He moans, shuddering and broken, says something, maybe _yes_ or _okay_. 

And, with every stroke of Dries’ hand on his dick, Gonzalo breathes. In and out. His heart’s hammering in his chest. He’s waiting. Waiting. _Waiting_. 

When Dries finally, _finally_ comes, he moans, low and guttural, and spurts all over his fist and his chest. And Gonzalo almost comes with him. Right in his boxers. Without being touched once.

Dries relaxes. Slumps against the bed. His arms falling to his sides, his legs slipping down, until he’s splayed out in an untidy sprawl across the rumpled sheets. Gonzalo can hear him breathing. He’s panting a little, like he’s trying to slow his breathing but can’t, not yet. 

Gonzalo watches his chest rise and fall and holds himself so, so still. Because he’s so on edge that every movement, every slip of his boxers against his dick, every brush of his shirt against his chest, every stroke of Marek’s fingers along his wrists, is too much, could make him come. 

“Pipita,” Marek says, soft and low, “In a second, I’m going to let you go, okay? What do you want to do then?”

“I—“ Gonzalo starts then stops. He doesn’t know. He can’t fucking _think_. He just _wants_. 

“Okay,” Marek says, “Okay. How about this, I’m going to let you go, and then I want you to go over to our boy, close enough so when you touch yourself, when you come, you come all over him. He likes that, you know that. Likes it when you come on his face, or—“

Marek has to stop. Has to _shut-up_. “Stop, _fuck_ , Marek, shut-up, I’ll— I’ll—“ 

Marek lets him go. Gonzalo falls forward. He almost ends up on his hands and knees. He steadies himself. He clenches his hands in fists at his sides to keep himself from just shoving his hands straight in his boxers, from just rubbing them right over his dick. He shuffles forward. And the drag of his boxers against his dick as he moves is a tantalizing, agonizing friction. By the time he reaches Dries, when he’s finally kneeling between his thighs, staring down at him sprawled across the sheets, sweaty and flushed and covered in his own come, he’s panting. Sweating. He feels like he’s going to burst out of his skin. 

Dries smiles up at him. “Pipa, _Pipa_ , hey,” he says, slow and slurred, “Didja like that? Was it what you wanted?” Gonzalo can’t speak. He nods. Quick and jerky. “You gonna,” Dries says, “do what Marek said? Gonna—“ He drags his fingers across his stomach, smears his come along his abs. “Come all over me, Pipa? _Hmm_.” 

Gonzalo can’t answer. Can’t— He shoves his boxers down and almost comes before he even gets his dick out. He grabs his dick. No finesse just desperation. He drags his hand down it and comes before he gets to the base. His whole body shudders and shakes. And the pleasure it’s, _Christ_ , it’s mind-blankingly intense. 

When it’s over, he sways a little, almost slumps right over on top of Dries. He can still feel it, the after-shocks of it sparking and fizzing all across his skin. He rocks back onto his heels and takes a slow, steadying breath. He’d come all over Dries. On his stomach, his dick, his thighs. He’d gotten a little on his hand. He wipes it on his boxers. They’re still pushed down. The waistband’s digging into the top of his thighs. 

“You,” Dries says, smirking a little, “really did like it, didn’t you?”  
Gonzalo laughs a little. “ _Christ_ , Dries,” he says, he’s still a little breathless so it comes out a bit rough, “Of course I liked it.” He runs his fingers along Dries’ thigh. “So much.” 

Dries smiles. “Good.” He holds up his hand and wiggles his fingers. “Help me up.” 

Gonzalo takes his hand and helps Dries scramble up onto his knees. Dries leans into him, until they’re pressed together. He’s wet and sticky. The come smeared across his stomach and chest soaks into Gonzalo’s t-shirt. “You,” Gonzalo says, sliding his hands along Dries’ sides, “are a mess.” 

“You like it, Pipa,” Dries says, with a smile, “Like knowing what a mess you’ve made of me.” 

“Maybe,” Gonzalo says, sliding one hand along Dries’ ass and pulling him even closer, “Maybe not.” 

Dries laughs. “Uh-huh,” he says, “Whatever. I know you like it.” He tips his chin up, the way he does when he wants to be kissed. 

Gonzalo obliges. Dries tastes like coffee. Gonzalo pulls back and rests his forehead against Dries’. “I do,” he says, soft and low, “like it,” and kisses Dries again. 

This time it’s Dries that pulls back. “Yeah, I know,” he says, “But it feels kind of gross after awhile. M’going to take a shower.” He gives Gonzalo a quick, smacking kiss then slips out of Gonzalo’s hold and shuffles over to the side of the bed. He pauses there and looks back over his shoulder. “You can come with me,” he says, his voice sliding into a sultry, inviting, tone, “if you want.” He looks over at Marek. “You can too.” Then he hops up off the bed and ambles towards the bathroom.

Gonzalo watches him until he goes through the bathroom door. He leaves the door open behind him in a clear invitation. Gonzalo pulls his boxers up and sits back on his heels. 

“Well,” Marek says, “You want to go with him?” 

Gonzalo looks over at him. He’s sitting on the bed, leaning back, knees bent, hands propped on the bed behind him. His shirt is pushed up a little and his sweatpants are riding low along his hips. He smiles at Gonzalo. “Well, do you?” 

Gonzalo scrubs his hand through his hair. He does want to. And he’s not sure why he’s hesitating. He nods. “Yeah.” 

“You should go then,” Marek says. 

“I, uh,” Gonzalo says, “right.” But he doesn’t move. 

Marek straightens up. He shifts into a cross-legged position and leans forward. “You okay, Pipita?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Gonzalo says. And he is. He’s _fine_. He just— He doesn’t know what to say to Marek. Doesn’t— “M’fine.”  
“You sure,” Marek says softly, “Look, if you didn’t like what we did, that’s fine, okay?” 

That isn’t the problem. He looks down at the bed. “That’s not, I mean, it was— Was good.” So _good_. That— That might be the problem. Maybe. He doesn’t know. It feels like something’s been knocked off-kilter between him and Marek and he doesn’t know how to set it right. Doesn’t even know if it _needs_ setting right.

“Okay,” Marek says. He pauses then says, “Would you want to do it again?” 

Gonzalo does. But he can’t look at Marek and say it. He fiddles with the sheets. “Uh,” he says, nodding, “Yeah, sure.” 

“Hey, Pipita,” Marek says, “Look at me, okay?”

Gonzalo smoothes out the rumpled sheets in front of him. Rests his hand flat on the bed. He lifts his head. Marek smiles a little. “We,” he says, “Don’t have to, Pipita, we can—“ 

“I,” Gonzalo says, cutting him off, “do want to, Marek. I do.” And he has to force himself to look at Marek while he says it. He’s blushing and the way Marek’s looking back at him makes him want to squirm. But he keeps his eyes on Marek. 

“Okay,” Marek says, “All right. We can do it again. Maybe—” He pauses. “Sometime, if you want, we can do what we talked about, would you like that?” 

Gonzalo has to look away again. He looks down at the bed. He fists the sheets in his hand. Smoothes them out again. “Uh,” he says, “Yeah, maybe.” 

“Okay,” Marek says softly, “We can do it if you want, when you want. Or not. Just let me know.” 

Gonzalo nods, quick and jerky, and says, “Yeah, uh, okay.” He doesn’t look back up. 

Marek’s quiet for a moment then he says, “You should go see how our boy’s doing. Make sure he’s getting all cleaned up.” 

Gonzalo looks up. “You” he says, “uh, you should come too.” 

Marek laughs a little. “Nah, man, there’s no way all three of us will fit in that shower. You go.”

“You could go,” Gonzalo says tentatively, “If you wanted. I’ll…” 

Marek shakes his head. “Nah, Pipita. You go. I know you like that, cleaning him up, taking care of him.” 

“You don’t?” Gonzalo says before he really thinks better of it. 

Marek smiles a little. “I do but not the way you do.” Gonzalo isn’t exactly sure what he means but he isn’t going to argue. Marek makes a shooing motion with his hands. “Now go. I’ll go, I don’t know, make breakfast or order lunch, maybe, depending on what time it is. You go.” 

“All right,” Gonzalo says, shuffling his way off the bed, “All right.” He pauses halfway to the bathroom and looks back at Marek. “Uh, Marek?”

“Yeah, Pipita?”

“We’re, uh, we’re good right?” It’s not exactly what he wants to ask but he’s not sure how to put what he wants to know into words.

Marek studies him for a moment then he says, “You tell me, Pipita, are we good?”

They are. Different. And, maybe, things feel a little weird, but they’re good. At least, Gonzalo thinks so. He nods. “Yeah,” he says, “We’re good.” 

Marek smiles. “Yeah,” he says, “We are.”


End file.
